


Enchantment: A Fine Tea Emporium

by afinch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-War, non-epilogue compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 17:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/afinch
Summary: Three weeks later and the Aurors were still no closer to finding out who was terrorizing shop owners in Knockturn by using Dark Magic to elicit fines from the Ministry.Public opinion was still of the mindset that they were faking, and staying just one step above the Aurors. The newest Prophet article had Pansy in a fit of rage today."'Pansy Parkinson, perhaps best known for her eagerness to hand Harry Potter over to the now-vanquished Dark Lord …' I mean, who writes this? I was 17 years old and my school was under siege and I didn't want todie, but sure, fault me for that. Then here, in a much-later paragraph, 'Parkinson was once the besotted of heir Draco Malfoy but after the war, he sought to distance himself from his Death Eater roots and cut ties with the dealing Parkinson.' As if it wasn't the other way around and he wasn't a moping, brooding, good-for-nothing sack of potatoes in our sixth year. That was my future and no thank you. And let me tell you, if he'd let me in on his little secret, I'd have had Death Eaters in the castle inweeks."





	Enchantment: A Fine Tea Emporium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleurting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurting/gifts).



> You said you liked seeing how couples get together ... enjoy!

The Head Auror Jameson was passing out assignments to the newer aurors with about as much enthusiasm as you can imagine a storied career man who studied hard at Hogwarts and spent the next 20 years rising through the ranks who suddenly finds himself having to deal with individuals who hadn't even earned the requisite OWL scores allowed into the Auror program.

"Weasley," the man said, with a hint of disdain. "77 Knockturn. Parkinson's whinging again."

Ron paled slightly as the rest of the group snickered. "Auror Jameson, perhaps …" he trailed off as the older Auror glowered at him and his pale face deepened to a dark red. "Perhaps I'll just handle this one myself," he finished, to the amusement of the rest of the class. 

"See that you do, Weasley," Jameson said, sounding bored. "Potter, you'll accompany me on a Dark Object hunt at the old Lestrange estate."

Ron wanted to say something to this, but thought better of it and stared at the slip of paper in his hand. _October 2, another attempt to get through the wards, stop fining me, I'm not the one doing this!_ The note wasn't written in Pansy's hand, but by a clerk from the office. Underneath the note, in the untidy scrawl of Auror Jameson read, _Dark Magic detected. Investigate and fine._

Parkinson had been in the paper recently, fined twice now for illicit use of magical objects, which was code for 'had Dark Magic something or another about that the Ministry couldn't actually find'. It had made her shop popular with the right sorts, which was fine with Jameson, it made the 'riff-raff' easier to find. Several shops like Parkinson's ultimately shut their doors, unable to handle the escalating fines and the hits to their reputations. 

The only thing for Ron to do, unfortunately, was to take a look. 

Dean Thomas sidled up to him, "77? I'm off to 91. Seamus gets to go to the Hogwarts Library again, lucky bastard. Want to team up? Cool that Harry got the best assignment again, innit?"

Ron just nodded. Harry always got the best assignments. Harry was the only Junior Auror that Jameson actually liked, and why wasn't exactly a mystery. 

"What shop are you fining?"

"Mr Day's Books and Antiquities," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Not nearly as fun as handing it to Parkinson. How many fines you think she'll last for? I'm thinking five, but considering she's got old money that wasn't touched during The Trials …"

Ron let Dean ramble on and on enthusiastically as they made their way to the apparation points. Dean still hadn't stopped talking as they approached 91 Knockturn Alley, but he fell silent upon staring at the carnage in front of them. 

**_All "pure" blood must go_**  
Both of them had drawn their wands, and a crowd was drawing around them. 

"Ron, Pansy's place," Dean muttered and Ron took off running at the suggestion - more to be away from the thickening crowd than anything else - and came screeching through the doors of Enchantment: A Fine Tea Emporium, panting, wand still drawn, hair and robes disheveled. 

Pansy, sitting behind the counter in a deep purple robe fringed in black, barely looked up. "Oh," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Whatever have I done to warrant such excitement? And from a Weasley, no less?"

Ron gritted his teeth, but still kept his wand out. "The Ministry got your _note_ he spat. 

She was unperturbed by this. She reached into her robes for a small coin bag, "Ah, yes. And you're here to fine me instead of actually doing something about it? How little is my life worth today? And put your wand away. You look like an idiot, but it'll scare customers. Unless that's your intent, actually drive me out of business."

She sounded hurt at this last bit, and Ron noticed too, just enough to lower his wand, but he still didn't sheath it. "Day's has been attacked," Ron said simply. "Reporting the same shite you are."

"Doesn't seem to be shite, does it?" Pansy said, allowing an edge to creep into her voice. "Mrs Day is Crabbe's Auntie. The Days closed up shop yesterday, too," Pansy sniffed. "Said they couldn't get a fair shake due to the Crabbe connection, even if Day was a half-blood. Ministry took half their money too, at The Trials. Said they'd aided and abetted. But I'm sure you know all about that." The acerbic tone was back in her voice. 

Ron ducked his head, guiltily. Harry hadn't testified at all during The Trials, except on the behalf of the Malfoy's, leaving Ron and Hermione to fill in the details. Ron had had quite a few things to say about Crabbe, well before the final Fiendfyre incident. The Ministry hadn't looked too kindly on anyone who'd been kind to Crabbe after that.

"Well, now it's different," Ron said, defensively. "I have to sweep for Dark Magic" He swept his wand around the place, casting a few detection spells. Nothing bounced back, but he hadn't been expecting anything to either. 

"Satisfied?" Pansy smirked. 

Ron muttered a quick detection spell, then finally put his wand away. Then he turned to Pansy, "I won't be satisfied until you get what you deserve."

Pansy didn't rise to the bait, just stared down Ron until Ron grew too uncomfortable and looked away. Pansy let out a sound that was almost a laugh. "And what does the Ministry hope I _deserve_ for this visit today?"

Beet red, Ron managed to squeak out, "I didn't find anything. Seems silly to fine you until after we've sorted what happened with the Day's. We'll be in touch."

"I'm sure you will," Pansy snapped darkly. "Do try to come before my shop is attacked as well, will you?"

Ron again opened his mouth to say something, but thought the better of it, and stalked out of the shop, nearly knocking over a display of "Japanese Plum Teas" as he did so. Pansy snickered but halfway out the door, there was no way for Ron to get a retort in.

*~*~*~*~*

"You didn't fine her? I send you to do one bloody, stupid, simple task. My five year old could have fined her!" Jameson roared at Ron.

"I- I thought-"

"You thought what, you simpleton? Were you taking pity on an old classmate? That doesn't seem your game now, does it?"

Several in the group snickered at this, but softly. Ron looked up at the Head Auror, his eyes blazing with tears and hatred. "No, I did it because of what happened at Day's. If someone is actually attacking purebloods, we ought to-"

"Nobody is attacking purebloods," Jameson sighed. He sounded weary, tired of the teaching that had been thrust upon him. "If they only made your war heroes go back to school and learn the subjects you- never mind that. Weasley, this is a trick as old as time. Pretend to be in some sort of Dark trouble when conducting illicit business. To give them … say it with me now, boy ... "

"...cover," Ron muttered. "But sir, Day's was-"

"A clever ruse, no doubt. Now, you'll not go home until you've fined Parkinson, so back out you get. The rest of you, Thomas in particular, great job today and I'm sure you'll all do exciting things tomorrow." Jameson dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

Ron stood there as his fellow Junior Aurors filed out, some of them coming up to him to offer condolences on the raw deal he'd managed to wind himself into. At last, all that was left was Harry.

"Mate," Harry said quietly as the two made their way to the Apparation points. "Do you have to get his goat every week?"

Ron turned red. He looked away angrily, tears once again welling up in his eyes. 

"I'll come with you, okay?" Harry offered. "Then we can go to your place for supper and maybe talk about how to make dealing with Jameson easier."

"Fine," Ron said, his voice hollow. 

They said nothing, only letting the silence between them grow more and more uncomfortable. The silence was broken by two things happening simultaneously: 1) the detection spell that Ron had set went off and 2) a cloaked figure stood outside Enchantment looking stunned by the detection spell. Before Harry could utter a spell, the figure had disapparated. 

Ron looked about wildly as Harry yelled, throwing spells of his own. His eyes came to rest on the second story above the shop, where Pansy was watching, her face white with shock.

"You put a Concealment Detection spell on my shop, without telling me!" Pansy seethed at Ron. "Do you know what would have happened if one of my customers had-"

"That was quick thinking," Harry said quietly. "I dunno if I'd have thought of that. Did either of you get a look at her face?"

"Her?" Ron said blankly. "No, mate, couldn't tell anything, but black robes, too tall to be Pansy herself."

"They left a note," Harry said. He read, "Dear Pureblood- You think you can charm a classmate into pitying you to escape a fine? That's nothing compared-"

"Isn't that what-" Ron started to say, but Harry held up his hand and he shut his mouth.

"It's enough for me to go to them and say there's no way it could have been staged like Jameson thinks. I'll talk to-"

"And what of me?" Pansy asked, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. "Are are you going to run my business into the ground one way or the other?"

Ron arched a brow at Harry. While they were both Juniors, it was unsaid that Ron would follow Harry's lead on this. It had just become Harry's first major case, whether he wanted it to or not. 

"You're under orders, Ron," Harry said, thinking quickly. "So see to it that you follow them to the letter. I'll take this for trace analysis at the Ministry and see if we can't get another guard."

He left quickly, and Pansy and Ron stared at each other for a long moment. 

"Well?" Pansy said, finally. 

"Well, I'm not leaving," Ron said, running his hand through his hair. "And uh, Harry's gone to go make the case that you're not faking someone being after you."

"You?" Pansy scoffed condescendingly. "You're the one protecting me?"

"I could leave," Ron said, thinking back to Harry's words and Jameson's orders. "Just write you up a little fine and I'll be gone and we can forget this whole bloody-"

"No!" Pansy said, sharply. "No, stay."

Ron quirked an eye at her, "Willingly staying with a Weasley? You must be petrified, Parkinson."

"I know when to hedge my bets," Pansy muttered. "Now how are you going to protect me?"

Before Ron could answer, there was a crash from downstairs; Pansy screamed, but Ron jumped for the door, moving fast enough to see a figure disappearing down the alley. "Stupefy!" Ron yelled, but the figure disapparated just ahead of the spell and it clattered against the end of the alley wall with a thick rattle. 

"My tea!" Pansy yelled and Ron turned back to the shop. Nothing looked amiss. He cautiously entered the shop to see two tea displays had been knocked over and a brick lay near them. 

"Don't touch the brick," Ron said. "It's been charmed to get through your wards. Whoever did this isn't an amateur. They must have watched Harry leave and though the coast was clear."

Pansy laughed at this, "So whomever it is doesn't think highly of you?"

"They can join the club," Ron muttered, running some diagnostic spells on the brick. Sure enough, it was heavily charmed and warded to get through Pansy's defences. He didn't have to wait long to hear the familiar popping of Aurors apparating in.

*~*~*~*~*

Ron was back in Pansy's tea shop, having been ordered there by Jameson as he was the only one who could, to quote Jameson "get along with that bitch", but he didn't mind.

Three weeks later and the Aurors were still no closer to finding out who was terrorizing shop owners in Knockturn by using Dark Magic to elicit fines from the Ministry. The Days had had their fines reversed and a full apology from the Ministry. It had been enough to bring them back to Knockturn, though they hadn't re-opened their shop yet. 

Public opinion was still of the mindset that they were faking, and staying just one step above the Aurors. The newest Prophet article had Pansy in a fit of rage today. 

"'Pansy Parkinson, perhaps best known for her eagerness to hand Harry Potter over to the now-vanquished Dark Lord …' I mean, who writes this? I was 17 years old and my school was under siege and I didn't want to _die_ , but sure, fault me for that. Then here, in a much-later paragraph, 'Parkinson was once the besotted of heir Draco Malfoy but after the war, he sought to distance himself from his Death Eater roots and cut ties with the dealing Parkinson.' As if it wasn't the other way around and he wasn't a moping, brooding, good-for-nothing sack of potatoes in our sixth year. That was my future and no thank you. And let me tell you, if he'd let me in on his little secret, I'd have had Death Eaters in the castle in _weeks_."

At that, she seemed to realise who she was talking to, and quickly correctly herself, "I mean, just because I know how to get things done. Not that I ideologically supported him, at all. But that's not what gets me, it's this part, right here, this '... the quasi-legitimate tea shop …' Look around, Weasley, doesn't this look legitimate? Maybe because it is?"

Ron looked up, a wry smile on his face. "You're different when you're legitimately angry."

"The shop, Weasley," Pansy said, pinching her nose. "The shop."

Ron shrugged, "I dunno. It does a good enough job for me. But you could definitely do more to make it quote-unquote, more, legit." He knew the emphasis would rile her up, but he was surprised that her reaction was to angrily slam the paper on the counter and come over and grab him by the ear.

"Ow, ow, assaulting an Auror," Ron squeaked. 

"Which part of this isn't legit?" Pansy shrieked. "Tell me! Which part?"

Ron twisted his head and wrested away from Pansy. He rubbed his ear gingerly and glared at her. "Well, for one," he said, "this is staged terribly. You've got your seasonal products tucked in that back corner, and your loss-leader of the Egyptian Black is all by itself, so nothing to entice anyone to buy anything with it, and your new products are right by the door, but only so customers see them as they're leaving, not when they come in or anything. It has all the airs of a tea shop, but not one that's trying to be serious."

Pansy stared at him, jaw open. 

Ron shrugged, "I picked up a lot from F- from George."

He looked away, taking a few deep breaths. It was obvious that Fred's death still affected him, even several years later. 

"Oh," said Pansy, sounding defeated. "And I suppose you'll have something to say about the samples I offer, too?"

Ron eyed her suspiciously, but nodded. "Yea, you're both offering too many, and not enough. Put some of the speciality stuff on sample, so people will buy it. Everyone's had a black tea, but you've got six of them on."

Now Pansy looked really defeated. "Mags was right, I couldn't run a shop. Not even in Knockturn. Not that anyone will lease me a space in Diagon."

"Mags?"

"Marigold, my sister. Half-sister. Older. Called me trying to turn Potter in an 'eternal shame, whether Potter had won the war or not'." Pansy offered this matter of factly, but her voice dripped with shame. "Said I had no sense, business or otherwise. As though I could get a lease on Diagon even if I hadn't said it. No, dating Draco and being Slytherin was more than enough to doom me, wasn't it?"

"I didn't know you had a sister," Ron ventured. He wasn't going to touch the other stuff with a ten foot pole. 

"Three, all half," Pansy said airily. "My mother was quite the whore. She landed on Parkinson last. Kept hoping for a son so she could actually lay claim to some of the money she was spreading her legs for. I was her last disappointment."

Ron didn't know what to do with this sudden display of vulnerability so he stared at her, mouth agape. "I think you can run a shop just fine," he finally said. "You just need to make a few changes. Quality tea practically sells itself."

"And what are you doing as an Auror, when you're so good at running a shop?" Pansy pounced. "Being a war hero a lot more to live up to than you bargained for?" There was a hint of taunting in her voice, but not as much as there would have been three weeks prior. 

The comment still stung, and Ron slouched, ears red. "Something like that," he muttered. "'Mione would kill me for one."

"Hrm," Pansy said, but she didn't dwell on it. She waved her wand left and right, rearranging things as Ron had suggested. 

Ron, literally just there as a presence of deterrent, watched impassively, only speaking when Pansy had nearly finished. "Try something like 'if you like Egyptian, why not try these similar palates'. People will try something new if it's similar to what they already like."

It would have been easy to dismiss Ron's suggestions, but Pansy knew her shop wasn't doing as well as it could be, and in the face of the threats against her and several other shops, she wasn't about to shutter her doors and give up. This was hers. She had birthed this from the ashes of the war and Merlin help her, she was going to rise like a damn phoenix. 

"Thanks," she offered, several hours later, when Ron's shift was over. 

Ron shrugged, "Whatever, Parkinson. You're just going to blame me and put it all back tomorrow when nothing happens."

She was too stunned by this slap in the face to quip back with anything.

*~*~*~*~*

The turning point came with a trap.

"We'll leak that we're no longer watching the shop," Jameson said to the small group of Aurors in front of him. Only two Junior Aurors, Potter and Weasley, were present. "And whomever our vigilante is, they're sure to strike tonight. Weasley, you stay with Parkinson, get her out of there if you need to, leave everything else to us. Potter, you're my shadow."

Pansy was nervous.

Strike that, Pansy was _very_ nervous.

"You're supposed to follow your normal routine," Ron hissed at her, from the shadows. "You look like you're putting on a play, badly."

"That's the best you can come up with?" Pansy shot back. "Easy for you to say, you don't have a giant target on your back."

"Pour your damn tea," Ron growled. "The sooner you're lights out and sleeping, the sooner -"

"I'll get dead?" Pansy teased. She acquiesced to his demand regardless and snuffed out the kitchen candle, heading for the bedroom. There, in the doorway, she hesitated, shivering. 

Ron moved in the shadows with her, and stopped, crouched low just outside the bedroom door. "Pansy, get in," he ordered. "It's safe. We know what we're doing."

Pansy shook her head, "I can't. I can't do it. I don't want to die." She said it softly, mournfully, as if she were, yet again and still, a terrified 17-year old girl coming face to face with unimaginable terrors in the dark. 

"Good Godric, I'm not going to let you die," Ron said, sounding far braver than he felt. 

"Tell me something that will make me trust you," Pansy said. 

The candle flickered and Ron clenched his fists. Would their culprit be watching and know something was amiss? Even if the culprit didn't, Johnson sure would. 

"Hugo de Groot," he said after a moment. "I want to name my son after Hugo de Groot. The red-haired famous Belgian Quidditch player. He gave up all that fame and fortune to do what he wanted to do best; write. I … I dunno, Pansy. I like people who follow their own path."

That seemed to be enough for Pansy, and she moved into the bedroom, Ron like a shadow behind her. 

"It's a stupid name," Pansy remarked. "But not as stupid as Albus or Remus or whatever stupid name Potter names his brats. Or naming after flowers. That's stupid."

"I like Rose," Ron said. "Daisy's too infantile and just about anything else seems pretentious."

A pillow landed near his head, "Thanks for that, Weasley."

"I didn't mean it like that," Ron said sheepishly. He was silent for a moment, then added, "But Marigold, that-"

"About as pretentious as you can get," filled in Pansy.

The both of them laughed, but it died quickly. The silence was almost overpowering as the seconds and minutes ticked away.

"My sales are up 16%," Pansy whispered. "Just … just so you know."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden burst of light stopped him.

Everything after that happened quickly. 

The Aurors moved in. The sound of glass breaking. A scream. Another scream. A curse breaking through the floor, ricocheting off Pansy's bed. Pansy's screams. Ron's arms around Pansy, disapparating them out of the way. Silence punctuated only by the deep, heavy, sobs of Pansy.

*~*~*~*~*

Pansy pulled back from Ron and stared at the ragged looking building, sniffling a bit as she did so. "Where are we?" She tried to sound brave, but her voice still trembled.

Ron scratched his ear, "Uh, this is the Burrow."

Pansy crinkled her nose, "Burrow? Ew. Wait. Wait … Burrow. You _live_ here?" The last bit came out with a bit of a screech as Pansy regained her composure.

Before Ron could retort back, a voice called out from the doorway, "Ron? Is that you? Come on in, your mother's kept supper warm for you two."  
"Oh no no," Pansy shook her head. "Weasley, there are a lot of things I will do, but I would rather burn with my shop than-"

She stopped as Molly Weasley poked her head from behind Arthur. "I made your favorite!" Molly's voice, sweet and loud, seemed to shake Pansy, who took an uncertain step back. 

Ron grabbed her gently by the arm. "Come on, you were too nervous to eat earlier. You must be starving."

"Who _are_ you?" Pansy hissed in response, but she trotted alongside Ron, cringing as first his mother, then his father wrapped him in a hug. 

Molly then turned to Pansy, "You must be Pansy, Ron told us he might be stopping by, I do hope you like steak and mash, but I have a vegetable medley if you're one of those sorts." She moved forward as if to hug Pansy, but Pansy shied back, and Molly just nodded. "In you get then, follow Ron to the kitchen."

" _This_ was the plan?" Pansy hissed to Ron as they made their way to the kitchen. " _This?_ "

Ron shrugged, but his bright red face belied how uncomfortable he was. "We needed a safe place to go that nobody would suspect you'd be at."

Pansy shuddered as she looked around, "Yes, a human-cooked meal with a doting loving family served in little more than a shack is a good place."

"I find," Molly said from behind, "that a home-cooked meal fixes a lot of things. Now dear, was it the steak or the vegetables for you tonight?"

It was clear to everyone in the kitchen but Ron that there was a showdown of sorts occurring. Ron, in the middle of his second scoop of potatoes, seemed all too happy to ignore the way Pansy drew her shoulders back and stared defiantly at Molly, who stood by the stove, a warm smile on her face. Arthur stood in the doorway, his shoulders tense and his arms crossed. If one looked closely, one could see the tip of his wand up his right robe sleeve.

"Neither," Pansy said, injecting as much vitriol into the single word as she could manage.

Molly shrugged. "Arthur, we'll save it for tomorrow and I'll have George over. If Ron's left any of the rest, you can have it for lunch." She looked utterly unconcerned by Pansy's answer and Pansy looked, for the moment, conflicted. She broke her gaze from Molly to glance at Ron who was still blissfully oblivious and diving into his pile of food. 

"Hey!" Pansy shouted, causing Ron to hurriedly swallow his mouthful and jump up, wand out. Pansy rolled her eyes. "Save some for the rest of us, Weasley." With a smirk at Molly, she sat down.

"Oh," Ron said, looking crestfallen. "Well, I guess there's some steak. No on the vegetable medley, then?" He looked utterly heartbroken as he slid a near-empty steak plate over to Pansy. Then he brightened, "There's plenty of mash, though, mum always makes heaps."

"Where _I_ come from," Pansy said airily, "elves cook and guests are offered the finest cuts of meat. I guess your mother never taught you proper manners, did she?"

Molly opened her mouth to retort, but Ron was quicker. "Well if this isn't to your satisfaction, _Princess_ , I'll just show you your bed."

"I am _not_ kipping here!" Pansy screeched. "Take me back. Now, Weasley."

Ron leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, "No."

Pansy looked as though she wanted to scream, but she bit it back. She took a few heaving breaths, looking around the room. "Okay," she said calmly. "Okay. I'm having a crazy dream, that's what this is. Just a crazy nightmare. Just a curse that hit me. I'm going to wake up. Soon. And go back to-"

"Being a targeted has-been scum of Knockturn?"

"Ron!" Molly admonished, but at a look from Arthur, she stopped.

"I'm _not_ scum!" Pansy said. Now she looked upset. She looked around the kitchen again, looking lost this time. "And I don't- is she really your mother?" When Ron nodded, she continued, "And she really made a whole meal vegetarian, just in case I didn't eat steak, because you told her we might be coming?" When Ron nodded again, she leaned back in her chair, looking bewildered.

The silence sat thick and heavy in the kitchen, and Ron's steak was growing colder by the second, but his eyes were firmly on Pansy.

"I'm not a good person," she said, finally, in a small voice.

"I know."

This time there was no rebuke to Ron from Molly, who had sidestepped quietly to stand near Arthur. Arthur moved his arms around her, keeping his right arm in front, the wand tip protruding just a little bit further as his robe slipped down. Absent-mindedly, Molly swept her hand up, brushing the robe back over the wand. 

"You still protect me. It's one of your own doing this and you still protected me. And you brought me to your _house_ and your mother cooked a -" she let out a light laugh, "I don't even think my mother knew how to cook, I don't-"

"Me eith-" Ron started to say, but Molly held up her finger to her mouth and Ron looked chagrined. He clamped his mouth shut, deliberately, and looked at Pansy, raising an eyebrow at her to indicate she should continue.

It had been enough to break Pansy's moment of self-actualization and she arched her own brow back at Ron, "Yes, you'd probably have killed me had you tried."

Ron grinned at this, "Yea, some Auror I'd be then, huh?"

And Pansy just smirked.

*~*~*~*~*

Ron stood near Pansy as Jameson talked and gave her forms to file for reimbursement from damages. He left the two of them standing in the ruined shop, looking bewildered.

"Uh, so I guess I should …" Ron started.

"Yes, leave," Pansy snapped. "I'm done with you, Weasley. Go back to Granger." Her voice was ice and she looked as though she wanted to hex Ron where he stood. 

Ron rubbed his ear. "Oh, well uh, thing is, well, uh, 'Mione and I aren't- I mean, yea, whatever. But uh, actually, I have this before I leave." He handed Pansy a piece of paper and didn't wait to see her reaction before turning to leave. "Sorry Seamus ruined your shop."

Pansy stared at the slip of paper in her hand, a lease permit for a shop on Diagon Alley. Ron didn't turn to look back and Pansy looked torn about what to do for a second. 

"Damn you, Weasley!" she yelled as the door closed behind Ron. "Damn you," she said again softer, turning the permit over and over in her hands. She watched the door for a few more seconds then turned back to her counter. She carefully placed the permit on it, moving a few stray boxes of tea out of the way. 

When the bell on the door jingled, she spun around quickly, her eyes wide. She smoothed her robes, trying to hide how she felt. "Don't tell me you're coming to take it away, Weasley."

"So," Ron said, looking terribly awkward and just as uncertain as Pansy. "I dunno if you saw, but it's next to the Joke Shop. And I dunno if you heard, but I just put in at the Ministry. Being an Auror's not my thing and George well-"

"I'll pay you double," Pansy said quickly, taking a few steps towards him. "On the condition that if you even _think_ about letting Granger _look_ at my shop, I will-"

"She's not my girl-" Ron started to say, but Pansy had closed the gap between them.

She pressed her lips firmly against his and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady himself. When Ron sputtered, she pulled back, smirking, "Not bad for a wizard who can't cook."

Ron looked at her, completely boggled. "Yea," he said after a minute. "Okay. But George still needs the help, so , so maybe just one out of two?" He looked at Pansy like a little puppy. 

She laughed and pulled at his robes. "The bed upstairs might be blasted to pieces, but the settee is big enough for two."

Ron really couldn't find a fault to argue with that.

*~*~*~*~*


End file.
